I had a very quick one a while ago when I was running around Lincoln (I run a lot in my dreams, which is ironic as I'm grossly unfit in real life) and ran into a car park, where Gevin had a go at me as apparently running around a car park doesn't constitute proper park running.

So last night I'm running through Lincoln on my way to a hospital where my ex-girlfriend has just gone into labour with a child that may or may not be mine, when I have the sudden need for a piss. As I make my way along the Brayford waterfront, it suddenly turns into a weird half-open air half-indoor pub/shopping mall. I then remember that it's the day before COLIN as Rob Foster, Matty Artell and Gevin are sat around a table in the weird half-pub, but in my desperation, I blank them and head to the toilet. However, both stalls are wholly inadequate- one has a toilet seat smeared with faeces, the other has a door too narrow to pass through- so I swear loudly, attracting the attention of the manager, who sympathises with me and says the 'other guy' was annoyed too. The other guy turned out to be Mark Deeks, who I encounter as I leave the toilet by the emergency exit and have to climb down a 20 foot tall confectionery display. We have a pleasant chat about how useless the toilet is, until we're both enthralled by a banana & toffee flavoured Lion bar. I then wake up.

It wasn't present in tonight's dream so I'm assuming it all got resolved somehow.

Last night's dream started out weirdly (even by my standards) in that I was a student at a sort-of steampunk version of Hogwarts (imagine Hogwarts if it were a battered old warehouse) and I got called to the headmaster's office, only to discover that the headmaster was the wrestler Triple H and I wasn't a student there but in fact the Caretaker Manager of Lincoln City, having been in charge for the last six weeks, done relatively well (including a 5-0 win) and not wanting to make the appointment permanent. As the office is still in steampunk Hogwarts, various things keep distracting us (including Triple H having to shoo out a parakeet that had flown in through a broken window) until we find ourselves standing outside staring at a UFO. Triple H uses his telekinetic power (apparently being a wrestler also makes you a Jedi) to pull the UFO out of orbit, whereupon it crashes into the front garden of my old house. In the top of the UFO is a giant gemstone with a note attached saying 'This is a gift for all mankind, please deliver to Mike Brown as he's the only one who can be trusted to share it wisely'. Underneath the note, Mike had actually already written back (in the alien language) asking if the aliens wanted a list of notable human dignitaries, only to be told that the gemstone is all we're getting. At that point I wake up and wonder just how much brain damage I actually have.

I dreamt that I was walking through my local branch of Sports Direct getting cheap clothing only to find that the Series 73 final between Jonathan Wynn and Anthony Endsor, or Callum is going on (they were both playing, but it might have been Callum as they were both calling out suggestions, for some reason I assumed him to just be an eager spectator) it's a very close contest going into the final game, in which Lee Mack in dictionary corner has had enough and is beginning to openly explain his distress at being completely inadequate at the game (he wasn't when on 8 out of 10 cats though, right?)

The only round I remember is Jonathan apparently winning the round with MULTIPLY, but then apparently an alternative 8 was UNSTAPLE as suggested by Callum, which makes no sense. I then at this point get distracted by why I came into the shop in the first place. I then wake up.

I've had a few dreams involving Countdown people over the years, but most of them haven't been coherent enough to post about. I had one last night that was more coherent than most. There was some CO event (organised by Zarte). I went down some stairs and it seems that it had already started. But it was actually a massive game of table tennis. Instead of singles or doubles, there were about 100 people on each team. When I turned up it was my turn to serve and I stood round the side of the table to do it (the only place I could fit I think). I served an ace because Charlie Reams couldn't return it. But Oli Moore complained that my serve wasn't legal because there was a delay between me throwing the ball into the air and hitting it. Apparently it has to be instant. It seems that it was allowed to stand though.

Rhys Benjamin wrote:Is it actually possible for anyone to have, like, a C4C/Apto/Countdown dream which doesn't go insane in it?

It is, but we don't post them on here.

On the subject of Countdown dreams, I had one while I was Leeds fest where my supervisior on the night shift was none other than Mr Corby, who proceeded to be very strict, barking orders at everyone. When I come back for my break, Corby has turned into Robbo, who on finding out I have confiscated a large bottle of vodka off some bloke, insists on making it a spot prize at CoHudd, which I then go onto win.

There was also a song a dance number in the middle between me and three others on my shift, but I won't go into that

Last night's dream started off non-countdown related but eventually became 'revelant' so I'll jump in at that point. Basically, I find myself following an old work colleague into a barber's shop, noly to find several other work colleagues there. After getting my hair cut in a record time of 28 seconds, I head home along Newark Road in North Hykeham (not the bit with the old COLIN venue on it, the bit closer to Lincoln with Asda on it) only to remember I'd agreed to attend a co-event that very day in Hykeham and was actually meant to be on my way there. Luckily, the venue was also on Newark Road (a 3 minute walk from the barber's), so I head there, only to find a locked garage door. After checking the message history on my phone, I find that this is the right venue, and I open the garage door to find a co event already in play, only it's a weird hybrid event of Countdown, Scrabble and Chess. Despite 3/4 of the people there playing chess, they're still claiming it as a co-event attendance record. Most of the people actually playing in the co-event (such as it is) are Scrabblers, but both Worsleys are there, as is Heather Styles. There may be other countdowners there as well, I can't remember for definite.

As I arrive, I get handed my round 1 draw, one of the scrabble players, but despite the draw being done as though we're playing 2 to a table, it's actually 3 to a table, so I play Heather as well as the scrabble player. However, when I arrive at the table, they're not alone- the dismembered head and shoulders of Jeff Clayton is also on the table (literally 'on' the table), but when I go around the other side, it turns out not to be a bust of Jeff, but is in fact Heather's time-keeping device. At that point I (thankfully) wake up.

Last night I dreamt of CoC (wahey!). However, in Dream CoC my first match was against Callum instead of George. We have an emotional conversation in the green room before walking onto the set, where we are surprised to find that everything except the clock has been demolished to make way for a swimming pool. The swimming pool is filled not with water, but with two enormous slices of a cake that strongly resembles a trifle, both placed near diving boards. It become apparent that we must dive off the diving boards and onto the thick splodges of cream (wahey!) on top of the cakes, and then make snow angels with the cream. Whoever makes the best snow angel wins the match.

Callum goes first and jovially bellyflops into the cream, thrashing around in it like he's having a fit before falling asleep. I gracefully dive onto the cake and make a pretty snow angel. Obviously, I win.

I was experimenting with waking dreams, which is where you’re awake but really tired, you keep your eyes open, focus on one topic and let your imagination do the rest. I was at my desk at work (yeah, yeah, I know), saw a 7 month old crème egg on my desk and thought ‘food’.

Ultimately, the dream escalated into a re-run of Mark vs Innis’s marathon countdown game, only it was an eating competition, they were in cramped closet and eating the same fried egg over and over again. No sign of Zarte or Gevin.

Had a brief one a couple of nights ago. I was playing against Tom Cappleman on apterous and he was ahead going into the crucial conundrum. He buzzed in and got it wrong but before I could do anything else, Matty Artell (even though he wasn't in the game) buzzed in with the right answer and I lost.

I wish I could contribute more to this thread but my dreams never seem to last for more than a couple of seconds and a disappointingly low number of them feature apterites.

Jack Worsley wrote:Had a brief one a couple of nights ago. I was playing against Tom Cappleman on apterous and he was ahead going into the crucial conundrum. He buzzed in and got it wrong but before I could do anything else, Matty Artell (even though he wasn't in the game) buzzed in with the right answer and I lost.

I wish I could contribute more to this thread but my dreams never seem to last for more than a couple of seconds and a disappointingly low number of them feature apterites.

Last night's dream saw me at COLIN, which ws being held at the Cameron Toll Travelodge, which had somehow managed to transport itself from Edinburgh onto a street in the West of Lincoln. I can't remember much about the early part of the dream (or even if there was one), but it eventually became lunch, causing myself, Jen and Gevin to wonder what to do for food. I eventually head into Lincoln city centre to look for a restaurant, walking past four Craig Beeverses on the way (it unknown if they were at COLIN and if so, how many of them were).

I turn down an unknown (and non-existent) street in Lincoln city centre that has multiple fast food places, including two McDonalds fusion restaurants that I pass on because a) they're McDonalds, and b) whatever they were fused with, it wouldn't have been an improvement. I eventually stumble across a Burger King, though it's a really small one, with literally just enough room for a chair, a table and a telephone. There aren't any staff in there, nor any place to buy food, but I decide to enter anyway, and ring the telephone only to find out it's an ordering system for people staying at the hotel where COLIN is being held, which Innis then shows up to inform me was the case all along for food. I leave as a girl from where I work enters and uses the phone to try to order a side of beef for her Christmas dinner.

I keep going further from the hotel, eventually walking down a country road (this happens a lot quicker than you might imagine if you walk in one direction from Lincoln city centre), where I have a giant magazine rack on one side of the road (with everything scaled up proportionately so the magazines are about seven feet high) and a car forecourt on my left. I cut across the forecourt and eventually end up at a burger King, though before I enter I get distracted by some sheep outside the door. At this point, I wake up.

I had a bit of a weird dream last night but I can't remember much of it. I remember that there was some conversation involving me, Corby and Ryan Taylor about parkruns, and either Ryan or Corby was being mocked for their parkrun being really easy to set a fast time on.

Later on, me and Corby (and possibly others) were in some house at night and there was also a royal baby. I'm not sure if it was a specific royal baby or not, but I'm going to say it was Princess Charlotte, although I think this baby was also in direct line to the throne. There were quite a few daddy-long-legses "attacking" the baby, and I think we decided that if we left them to it then we could ruin the whole monarchy thing. In the end, I relented, and picked some of them up and put them out the door. I think I picked up about three in one go. (That's what I do with daddy-long-leges anyway in real life. I cup my hands round them so they can't escape and out the door they go, although only one at a time.) I'm sure loads of other stuff happened in this dream too, but I can't seem to recall it. I think Jen Steadman was there too at some point. I think Jen was supposed to be helping at COLIN and there was some doubt about the date of it or something. Dunno.

The first one involved Jon Corby going on Strictly wearing a costume that looked like ill-fitting painters overalls, doing a dance to 'Crazy in Love' (I don't know exactly what dance it was). I don't know exactly what he scored, all I know is that the judges (one of whom may have been Mark Deeks) gave him wildly varying scores.

Last night's dream saw me involved in an Apprentice task alongside Jono, Jen and Jeff Clayton. We headed down to the nearest underground station, only to miss the train and have to wait for the next one. When the train arrives, it turns out to be three shopping trolleys haphazardly lashed together end-to-end and filled with black bin bags full of, well, rubbish. This doesn't stop Jen and Jono from trying to climb aboard whilst I try to tell Jeff about the Race the Tube challenge from last year, only to have a couple of nearby girls keep jumping ahead of me in the story.

Non-c4c related, but when I woke up from that I found myself in a false awakening where there was a massive frost outside and all of my car had turned invisible apart from the wheels. And compared to most of my dreams, that's relatively tame, but I felt I'd mention it anyway.

Ben, can you a) make Apterous Apprentice happen (maybe make the Hangover a half-day simulation of an Apprentice series?) and b) make Corby dancing to Crazy In Love happen?

Dreamt last night that I was on a mass endurance walkathon over several days where you slept in a field at the end of the night. Nadiya from Great British Bake Off was near where I was trying to sleep on the second night, and I must have stepped in some dog poo at some point during the walk because she and a friend were sniffing my shoe and bitching about how terrible it smelt. They instantly stopped when they realised I was awake.

It was just starting to turn light when Conor appeared on the horizon dressed as Hitler (including the tache), shouting in German and pointing his army of Nazis towards us. They ran over and started shooting/arresting people, and I was just starting to freak out about it when I was rudely awakened by my friend ringing me so we could try and get Glastonbury tickets. (We didn't get them.) Disturbingly, this is not my first dream involving Apterites dressed as Nazis.

Rather weird crossover one last night. I was in my local have a drink with Andy Platt, Dan McColm and weirdly, Anton Du Beke, when the numerous TV's at the bar suddenly go haywire before the giant TV (which can show four channels at once) comes into focus with Zarte showing up on all four screens, calling himself "The Maestro" and introducing us to a Mole type tournament. At this point we find out a range of other apterites, including Jen Steadman, Graeme Cole, Heather Styles, Jon Corby, Callum Todd amongst others are also at the pub, as well as seven Nottingham Panthers ice hockey players.

Essentially the task was to find Innis somewhere in Nottinghamshire, and he turned out to be at a golf course.

I had one a few nights ago. Tony Atkins was hosting a co-event (never found out where but it looked more like the St. Albans venue than the Reading one). Just before the first round of games started with everyone seated, Mark Hartnett arrived a couple of minutes late, only for Tony to sternly tell him "You're not playing!". As far as I know, minor lateness was the only reason. Sounds harsh, but maybe it's the standard method for dealing with latecomers at co-events.

A short one from last night involved me at a co-event, I didn't recognise the venue but Robbo was hosting, it was around half way through and I was playing Jack Worsley on the front table at first but then the dream merged to later in the day. I was playing Andy Platt at this point but at the back there was some American kid called Ethan who nobody knew but had signed up on the day and had maxed every round so far. Not sure who won the event or who Ethan was, or even based on.

James Laverty wrote:A short one from last night involved me at a co-event, I didn't recognise the venue but Robbo was hosting, it was around half way through and I was playing Jack Worsley on the front table at first but then the dream merged to later in the day. I was playing Andy Platt at this point but at the back there was some American kid called Ethan who nobody knew but had signed up on the day and had maxed every round so far. Not sure who won the event or who Ethan was, or even based on.

So then, last night. I start in a high-speed car chase, only instead of a car chase, it turns out to be a car race (with lap times and distance to the car behind flashing up on screen). And instead of a cars, it turns out we're racing hovercraft like from the old videogame Wipeout, even though there are still regular cars on the track, which is odd as we seem to be driving around a blue-tinted alien planet (a bit like a twilight Dagobah). Eventually I pull out a 40-odd second lead after just 3 laps, so I stop to take a break, only to remember that I'm supposed to be chasing down Jeremy Clarkson, so I take off in hot pursuit on foot down Lincoln High Street, where I pass three Zartes, one of whom is trying to persuade the other two that his chosen variety of Spam is the best. I eventually end up outside the Tesco Express (exactly here for those of you familiar with Lincoln city centre), where Ryan and Michelle have set up an open-air videogame store. Ironically, all they're selling is used copies of Wipeout 2097, which I already have, so I take my leave and move on (it's implied that the store isn't doing very well).

My pursuit of Clarkson eventually takes me to Lincoln Bus Station, where I apprehend him and tattoo 'Fat git' on his calf in cursive handwriting. I then decide to head to walk, passing several stilt-walkers along the way as well as Thomas Carey, who for some reason is a Jedi. At that point I wake up.

Ben Wilson wrote:So then, last night. I start in a high-speed car chase, only instead of a car chase, it turns out to be a car race (with lap times and distance to the car behind flashing up on screen). And instead of a cars, it turns out we're racing hovercraft like from the old videogame Wipeout, even though there are still regular cars on the track, which is odd as we seem to be driving around a blue-tinted alien planet (a bit like a twilight Dagobah). Eventually I pull out a 40-odd second lead after just 3 laps, so I stop to take a break, only to remember that I'm supposed to be chasing down Jeremy Clarkson, so I take off in hot pursuit on foot down Lincoln High Street, where I pass three Zartes, one of whom is trying to persuade the other two that his chosen variety of Spam is the best. I eventually end up outside the Tesco Express (exactly here for those of you familiar with Lincoln city centre), where Ryan and Michelle have set up an open-air videogame store. Ironically, all they're selling is used copies of Wipeout 2097, which I already have, so I take my leave and move on (it's implied that the store isn't doing very well).

My pursuit of Clarkson eventually takes me to Lincoln Bus Station, where I apprehend him and tattoo 'Fat git' on his calf in cursive handwriting. I then decide to head to walk, passing several stilt-walkers along the way as well as Thomas Carey, who for some reason is a Jedi. At that point I wake up.

In my dream last night, I was losing to Paul James in my CoC game - I then saw Jack Worsley's face beaming down on me (kind of like a vision from God), who said "PICK THREE VOWELS" in a really boomy voice. I picked three vowels and ended up winning. I thanked Jack after the game, but he didn't know what I was talking about.

I've been having a lot of epic crossover dreams lately, of which last night's was only the latest. It started with me joining the cast of Red Dwarf assisting Rimmer in fighting Heisenberg from Breaking Bad, who has switched from making drugs into making a transforming ray and installing it into the ceiling of my local Asda, which has also been transformed into a hybrid meth lab/warehouse/youth club.

The Asda is full of people, making tracking down Heisenberg difficult, and after Rimmer gets transformed into a frog by the transforming ray, I have to take special precautions before invading the Asda, which is once again an Asda and I stroll down the toiletries aisle, staring at various products with 'mystery shopper' written on them. One of the employees corners me about this, saying that the items are for mystery shoppers only, to which I make the obvious counter-argument that if the shopper is a mystery shopper, how do they know that I'm not the mystery shopper?

When I turn around, the Asda has vanished and the packed youth club has returned, so I sprint around the perimeter herding the people into the centre of the room, which apparently causes Heisenberg to be revealed as Callum Todd, who runs off through the back entrance of the Asda (why I dodged the transforming rays instead of entering through the back door is beyond me). I chase after Callum, assisted by Jim Bentley. Jim does the sensible thing and follows Callum through the back door whilst I run out the front and sprint around the side, putting myself several hundred feet behind Callum. Jim and I chase Callum over a chain-link fence into the playing field of my old school. Jim and Callum do the sensible thing and climb the fence, dropping over the other side, whilst I attempt to do a flip over the top, landing flat on my back and getting my neck trapped in the fence. Once I've freed myself, I find that the field has turned into Callum's back garden and Jim has climbed into Callum's kitchen window and is successfully talking him down. I keep myself available to support Jim if needed, only to suddenly be attacked by a large black bear, who starts beating me up.

The fight lasts about five minutes with neither me nor the bear getting the upper hand, until we both get distracted by an amusing car number plate and the fight stops in favour of a cordial chat. When the car drives away, however, the bear gets enraged and attacks again, but this time I'm able to subdue the bear, breaking both of its arms (forepaws?) with a kimura arm lock. I call for the occupant of a nearby house to call the RSPCA, before waking up.

The previous night, I had another epic dream, the end of which involved two Graemes, one of whom was riding on the bus with me whilst the other was driving his own car, which was a fully wooden version of the Hammerhead Eagle i-Thrust only much better engineered and with a giant model of Buzz Lightyear on the top. In my dreams, Graeme is often a mechanical engineering genius, and in this one is also a father of five children, all of whom are in the car as Graeme demonstrates the car's ejector seat (apparently the only way to get out of the driving seat) and the car's self-righting mechanism, which only seems to be used during Graeme's demonstrations. After Graeme's demonstrated it three times (with his children in the car) I wake up.

Dan McColm wrote:In my dream last night, I was losing to Paul James in my CoC game - I then saw Jack Worsley's face beaming down on me (kind of like a vision from God), who said "PICK THREE VOWELS" in a really boomy voice. I picked three vowels and ended up winning. I thanked Jack after the game, but he didn't know what I was talking about.

You're welcome, I think I remember now. Your 4V selections weren't working (surprised you missed RELATIONS tbf), so I advised you to try something different. Unfortunately, I won't be seeing your game against Paul live, so you may be screwed.

Last night I had a dream best described as "C4C/Apterous/Countdown does Strictly Come Dancing". In the first week, Gev was voted out after his Waltz started out as political sketch and he forgot to actually end the speech and start dancing when the music came on, meaning he just stood yelling his head off at Ola for not listening to him.

Andy went out in week two, as he was upset when Craig didn't give him 100, Darcey 75, Len 50, and Bruno 25 for his Rumba. In week three, Anton Du Beke then fell down the stairs at the start of his routine with Susie, and thus crashed into her during the Tango. Then he broke her back when doing a staccato, and thus she was voted out. In week five, Corby got tangled up in his own cape during the Paso Doble and he wasted the entire 90 seconds trying to untangle himself, promptly getting voted out.

Jen was accidentally kicked by her partner, Aljaz, in week seven when some gunchos on an Argentine Tango went horribly wrong, and thus she promptly collapsed to the floor in agony, then proceeded to punch Aljaz and Tess. She was voted out that week. When the group Viennese Waltz occurred in Week 10, Zarte and Janette were judged to have won by default after Zarte ran over everyone's feet. Robbo's Cha-Cha-Cha in Week 11 went dreadfully when he accidentally crashed into the band, causing absolute chaos. And a lot of noise.

The finalists were Zarte (who had suffered constant criticism from Craig through the whole competition for not having one foot on the floor at all times, as well as not an upright posture, Zarte replying every week that that's the whole point of a wheelchair), Nick Hewer, and Charlie. Charlie won after Zarte found a Charleston especially difficult to do, which the judges made the "judges' choice".

I started in my bedroom, only I was remodelling it to try to fit more stuff in. I'm also waiting for deliveries, which eventually arrive and I hand out to three siblings I never knew I had (I may or may not have been myself in this dream). After leaving the house by a door that magically materialised in my bedroom, I head out to my car, which is a sort-of estate car at the front but a motorhome at the back. I have to detach a lot of camping equipment from it, for which I enlist the help of James Robinson. Once I've got all the stuff off, however, the car drives off of its own accord, leaving us with no way of getting to a co-event I only just remembered. (I was originally going to get into the car to drive home, despite the fact that I'm already at home)

Not to worry, I said to Robbo, I happen to know how to get hold of a time-travelling bus. It's an old green and yellow Lincolnshire Roadcar double decker, but every time a double-decker bus drives down the road toward me and James, it transforms into a single-decker and is this not the right one. Eventually, I board the time-travelling bus only to find that it can't actually go fast enough to travel through time and most of the seating has been removed to leave space for the time-travel components, meaning I get a seat on the bus but James has to cling to the outside. As if by magic, I soon find myself in the Top Gear studio outside the bus, which James has managed to modify to allow more people to sit in it, and the co-event (which is actually the final of FOCAL 2016) can begin.

Ryan and Michelle show up, as do Josh and Jack Hurst, who try to fry an egg on a kitchen scale (still inside the bus) and spend the rest of the dream picking away at the albumen. I tell Richard Hammond that this is going to be an epic dream, and I'm under the impression that James is also dreaming the same dream (I mention looking forward to reading his side of events). Before the final begins, the boss of FOCAL (who for some reason is a random American woman) starts dishing out fines, as it's also apparently the final action of the F1 world championship. Bernadette from the Big Bang Theory is apparently unhappy about being fined for crashing into her team-mate, but the entire cast of Battlestar Galactica aren't too disappointed with their larger fine. At that point, I wake up.

Two more recent ones. One (that I didn't take that many detailed notes on) saw me returning from the first ever Countdown in Tokyo event (in Ireland, rather than Japan, for some reason) and am at a combined hotel/airport thing. I buy a bag of crisps and an edible Christmas tree decoration (effectively a fancy-shaped Hula Hoop) from the kiosk, which is manned by Kirk Bevins and Dylan Taylor, before passing Graeme Cole and Mark Deeks en route to a steampunk bathroom that I manage to flood and have to wade in in just my socks to unblock. And then, of course, I wake up.

Last night, I find myself playing a videogame based on BBC's Sherlock which is a cross between Grand Theft Auto and Pac-Man. Imagine a Pac-Man style map, only with GTA mission markers on it, and you're just about there. I then turn into Sherlock and am sat in a rustic old pub down south somewhere, at the Hangover of a co-event that's turned into a scavenger hunt* between teams of 5. I'm on a team with Jen, Zarte and two others, all of whom are getting repeatedly pissed off at me for taking ages to get ready, thereby delaying everyone. As we start the scavenger hunt, Adam Gillard cycles past, and I'm prevented from joining the rest of my team by two old women with a loud yappy dog that bolts at me every time I come near (obviously, the women do nothing to prevent this).

All the while, Smoke on the Water is playing in the background. I then wake up.

*Yes I have thought about doing this for the COLIN hangover, but there's only so much you can 'scavenge' between the Travelodge and the South Hykeham village hall.

I had this dream the other night and I was debating whether it really counted or not. I was at a NASCAR race as a spectator and for some reason I got to interview Jeff Gordon (that's your connection right there) before the race. I suggested to him that some people think that going round in circles (as they generally do in NASCAR) is less skilful than in other racing like F1. I can't remember what the answer was (if there even was a coherent answer) but he seemed to take it in his stride and was quite affable about it. I then asked him if the drivers who did the best on ovals were the same as the drivers who did the best on the other tracks (I don't really follow NASCAR so I don't know). He said not. But there wasn't much elaboration. I don't remember much about the race, but then it turned out that there was another race later on that day somewhere else in the country (America of course). I hadn't known about this but I somehow ended up at this race too. I remember a bit more about this race. The cars seemed to be on a rail track so I was wondering how they overtook, but some cars seemed to nip in between the gaps or something. Then a car turned over and I was the nearest person to it, so it fell to me to turn it back over again (after much internal conflict about whether I should jump onto the track to do this or not).

Anyway, even if Jeff Gordon doesn't count, I was also in the dream wasn't I?

Last night I had a dream that Tracey Mills threatened to kill me because I talked her 12 year old daughter out of an arranged marraige to Andy Platt, losing her £500k. I only realised this was a dream after I woke up and remembered that Tracey doesn't have a daughter

So last night I was walking around Norwich (for some reason), only instead of walking around normally, I was navigating via the medium of Google Earth, occasionally popping in and out of Street View and wondering how they got the car up to the top of Norwich Cathedral. My navigating gets curtailed when I get run over by a black cab, injuring my right knee. I am somehow transported back to Lincoln, where, after about a 2 hour wait in a really long queue (which is also in the middle of a road), Dr Franklin (the character from Babylon 5) treats my knee and offers me a hand getting around afterward, leaving the rest of the queue waiting. We walk down the east side of the Brayford pool, which quickly becomes a sort-of indoor atrium with various shops around the perimeter. Dr Franklin disappears, but I soon spot Katherine Ryan at a kiosk selling dental supplies, and I ask her for an interspace tooth brush (it's a real thing, honest). As we're looking through brushes, Paul & Jack Worsley and Callum Todd arrive, as this atrium is also apparently the venue of COLIN, a fact I'd somehow forgotten. I'd also somehow forgotten that it was the date of COLIN, so I start setting out tables and chairs (my knee having magically recovered), and at that point I wake up.

A couple of nights earlier I had a dream I can't remember much of, only that me, Jen Steadman and Graeme Cole were secret agents undercover in a school as PGCE students. Kinda wish I'd made more of a note of that one.

Had a pretty spooky one last night -- I called Channel 4, either to participate in a phone audition or to see if I could set one up, and somehow Richard Whiteley himself ended up talking to me from the other end of the line!

I am playing Countdown in the studio against Andy Platt, but instead of the usual letters and numbers stuff, we each have to make a giant cupcake. I think, this is mine to lose, I bet he's never made a cupcake. End of round, cupcakes produced and presented to Susie. Susie prefers Andy's. I am cross. I have iced my cupcake with real* icing. He has used Plasticine to make fake** icing. I point this out to Susie. She ignores me. Andy says that mine is better. I am a bit less cross.

Heather Styles wrote:I am playing Countdown in the studio against Andy Platt, but instead of the usual letters and numbers stuff, we each have to make a giant cupcake. I think, this is mine to lose, I bet he's never made a cupcake. End of round, cupcakes produced and presented to Susie. Susie prefers Andy's. I am cross. I have iced my cupcake with real* icing. He has used Plasticine to make fake** icing. I point this out to Susie. She ignores me. Andy says that mine is better. I am a bit less cross.

*real as in dream real, not real real
** dream fake

I wonder if this stems from your general opinion of Susie as an adjudicator. Disgraceful.

Dreamt there was another marathon, but rather than just being in it, Innis was hosting it. He took the opportunity to announce that he had just written a book called "Britain's Greatest Bridges", and managed to peddle a few copies. The audience responded extremely warmly to everything he said.

Eoin Monaghan wrote:
He may not be liked on here, but you have to give some credit to Mark